


Facade

by Casstea



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Character Study, Fluff, Introspection, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-18
Updated: 2014-08-18
Packaged: 2018-02-13 17:12:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2158650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Casstea/pseuds/Casstea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There were a thousand façades to your average person. </p><p>James, however, had a million.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Facade

**Author's Note:**

> Idea that's been rattling around in my brain for a while! Enjoy!

There were a thousand facades to your average person.

James, however, had a million _._

There was his persona that he took on when he was _James Bond,_ British high stake roller. It was the persona he used when he played against Le Chiffre, poker face and cold blue eyes. He would tweak the persona slightly when he wooed women, he would soften the blue eyes and let his target peek behind his façade to another mask he had constructed. They thought they understood him.

They didn’t.

Then there was the mask he used on missions, when he was fighting for his life. His opponents just saw cold practise and determination, the pure essence of concentration as he used his hands to shoot, twist, grab, and eventually kill. This was the mask he used when he tried to distance himself from the dead bodies at his feet, the mask he used when shooting people at point blank range.

It had been the mask he had used to kill Silva. Cold, determined, bloody killer with a knife. It was apt that Silva had used the analogy with the rats killing one another, he had set up James to be his enemy and James had merely reflected a persona that Silva thought fitting. He had thought he understood the great _James Bond._

He didn’t.

Then there was the mask he used in MI6, when he was talking to Moneypenny or Tanner. This was ‘ _007’,_ a number who would be detached from the human world and sent on their dirty errands across the world. Of course, James would weave in some humour and sarcasm into this mask, allowing them a glimpse of his sharp mind and razor wit. It reminded them that there was more to ‘007’ than the ability to kill another human being. They thought they understood him.

They didn’t.

Then there was ‘Commander Bond’, the persona he had developed during his time in the Navy. This persona was sharp, straight backed and shined shoes. It was the persona he drew from when he stared at his opponents who thought they were better than him, giving him a stronger foundation to stare back into their murderous eyes with an ice cold stare. It was the persona which gave him confidence, the one he drew from when he felt out of his depth.

There had been a persona called ‘Jamie’, once before. In the distant past, when James’ life had been filled with adventure and stories. The times when he had come running back home to find his father cooking dinner on the table whilst his mother dismantled a gun at the dining table. ‘Jamie’ was full of wonder and joy, he thought the world would be _one huge adventure._

That persona had died when his parents had been killed.

‘M’ had been close to knowing James in person. She had been the closest thing to a Mother that James had known, the person who would nod at his return in MI6 and ensure he got the back up when it was needed. To her, James gave a little bit of his humanity, the small slither that remained under the trained killer’s clothing that he wore. He allowed his smile to reach his eyes, and laugh a little louder in her presence.

That persona had died when she had been killed by Silva.

There was the James who reached to the bottom of a bottle for friendship. There was the James who fucked anything that moved. There was the James who cried himself to sleep when he woke up from the nightmares, scrambling to get the ghostly hands of those he had killed from his neck. There was the James who looked in the mirror and hated the man he saw back. There was the James who was determined to prove the world wrong, the James who never looked at his past lest he find something he hated.

Then there was the James who fell in love with a man only known as _Q._ A man who was just as dark and mysterious as James himself. The man who woke up when James screamed in his sleep and simply held him until James’ heartbeat returned to normal. The man who gave a small touch to 007’s back when he left for a mission to remind James that he was only human. The man who had been told the stories of ‘Jamie’; the man who understood the blood that stained James’ hands.

Such a simple letter, not even a name. But to James, Q was his world. He was so brilliantly, perfectly, _human,_ with all his flaws and graces that lit up the world around him. James would find himself smiling when he returned to their flat and Q had made a lasagne because James had mentioned it was his mother’s favourite dish. The Q who would make the most ridiculous pieces of kit that would keep James alive, the Q who would always be listening on the other end of the earpiece when James fought to stay alive.

They were a team; a partnership so powerful that no force in the universe could separate it.

There were a thousand aspects to the average person, and there were a million aspects to James.

And Q was the only person who knew of every single one.


End file.
